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[color=Silver]	For quite some time, there was nothing but the emptiness of her heart when she first saw them take the first steps up the ladder. As a bystander, someone who could not prevent, save nor assist those savagely scouting out the frontline she hadn't yet seen, her mind dropped into a spiralled anguish of fear. She closed her eyes when the first whistle of a tipped bullet splattered through the first man and woman who dared to show themselves upon ascendance. It was a small glimpse before she cowered away, but Lucia had seen enough to truly strain her mind from peace. For quite some time, she didn't look, but heard several thuds and shouts of pain ring throughout the trench. An innate reaction to cower forced her head to look away, ensuring that she wouldn't force her eyes open to see the result of those climbing the ladder. It was clear that some were starting to scale and reach the top, taking their initiative to run in different directions. Several shot their guns as the scarily familiar tone of the Longfield rifle could be heard amongst the now rapid engagement of gunfire.

	She tried to block out the sounds. Her mind drifted to happy places of colour and light, where she used to run through the meadows with friends and family members alike. A coat of daisies and poppies were always nearby when she was at home, allowing her to spread her wings and float like a gentle butterfly. In those memories, there was nothing but glee and carelessness to contain her inner sorrow, but now there was a world outside of that bubble she'd been thrown into. The more she tried to block it out, the more she realised that this world was not another world by all means, but in fact was a measurement of the hell she'd been refusing to accept.

	Suddenly, when her mind became distorted and reduced to static imagery of the one peaceful past she'd experienced, there was a strange silence. It wasn't the ringing in her ears caused by the uproar of gunfire, nor was it the slightly distant growls of men and women charging into the fray, yet it was her sudden shock to see what was before her. A tremble in her eyelids forced her to open and bear witness to what was before her, and it was far from satisfactory. There were no more men nor women climbing the ladders as such, spare for a few more who had fallen back. Some had bullet wounds in their arms or hips, yet they were still being told to walk up the ladder a second time. Her eyes drew colourless and devoid of all light, tone and shade. Nothing stood before her except the manifestations of the demonic movement, slaughtering the men and women around her like common cattle. Her legs nor body couldn't move and were frozen by the mixture of fear and chilled temperatures surrounding the trench. A worse smell flickered across her face as tears dribbled down her cheeks. The bottom of the ladder and on the top edge of the trenchline laid bodies that were freshly mangled by the rain of bullets upon them.

	Hundreds of souls were being condemned to something she couldn't see outside of the trench. Within seconds of being called to the frontline she'd seen nearly a hundred dead bodies littered only around her specific part of the trench. She could no longer feel anything except the numbness of human regret. Was she really supporting the regime by joining this military? No, of course not. She was conscripted like all of the victims of war. She was nothing more than a tool of kindled violence, a toy of the Cartesian Devil. She shivered and broke down into a pup-like whimper, crying for help silently beneath her own condensed whisper.

	Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She must have blanked out for at least five minutes, as the battle had already taken its toll on certain individuals. At the top of the trench, retreating for their own life, a woman suddenly appeared and began to climb down the ladder. Her soldier's instinct suddenly was halted as they realised Lucia had forced herself to bring up her rifle. Their heads turned and their eyes met. Both paused in position, the lady barely halfway down the ladder in her own panic.

	The sound of Lucia's Longfield, shivering and shaking in her own anxiety, was almost as loud as the battle raging on above. Her eyes were now a source of continuous tears, flourishing and dominating her pure smooth skin. Her legs were trembling in a tremolo rhythm whilst her gun struggled to stay aimed on her. She tried to say something, realising that failing to do her duty would result in not only punishment on her end, but also for the individual who'd just retreated before her. She was assigned the duty of murdering her comrades, at least the ones who retreated, without remorse. Lucia couldn't face the orders, nor could she keep her bright red cheeks from glowing. A ray of sunshine, amongst the dark clouds and rainfall, shone on her, enhancing her features more and more. With a petite call, the woman remained frozen on the ladder, almost trying to beg for forgiveness telepathically. Lucia finally broke the silence between the two with a broken sentence, drowned in her own fresh tears.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"H-Halt!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]There was no threat in her tone, only a beg for saving. The poor girl was a victim, more of a victim than anyone else in the war, for having to not only commit crimes against the enemy but instead against her own people.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"I...I...I n-need to...s-shoot if you..."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	But before she could continue speaking, she collapsed onto her knees, bursting out into a loud cry of tears and sniffles. She consistently kept on repeating herself, stating that she was sorry not only to the woman but her family that had been killed in the past. She'd become a shadow of her former self, one that was ripped into several broken pieces without friends, comfort not morality. The woman she'd been aiming at looked at her, still in fear, before slowly rising back up the ladder and rejoining the fight, leaving Lucia to swallow her own tears in agony and solitary confinement.[/color]